


Ertrunken in Honig

by Kedamono_no_kao_wa



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Daemons, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depression got your ass hershel, Do deamons count as original characters?, Good ol' villains, Idk what the 'fusion' means but here we go, Layton needs an innocent young boy to heal his crooked soul because he is too far gone at this point, Lusting for a young boy but in an innocent way, Minor Violence, Multi, Paedophilia, Passive-aggression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedamono_no_kao_wa/pseuds/Kedamono_no_kao_wa
Summary: Hershel Layton is begged by his former friends wife Brenda Triton to help him, for there's a murderer on the run, and poor Hershel wishes this was the only problem he would have to need to face.
Relationships: Clive/Flora Reinhold, Hershel Layton/Luke Triton
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	1. Verbranntes Lamm

His hand fumbled nervously with his silvery wristwatch, that no matter how often he adjusted it, it never felt right. Too tight, too loose, too scratchy, too slippery, too cold, too warm. Goddammit.  
He was just too anxious, Hershel told himself. After all, Clark and his' friendship died out years ago, only being impaired by the baby boy Clarks wife has given birth to 10 years ago.  
The mayor of the little town he was ordered in rarely relied on the professors help, him being still not on good terms with Hershel, but in this case, it wasn't his old friend who directed him here. Surprisingly, Brenda Triton, the boys' mother, wrote the letter that arrived at his only a few days ago, beseeching him to lend them a hand with the 'problem' that was robbing them of their sleep.  
Hershel wondered why she didn't name the seemingly so onerous hitch if it was so important that she was allowed by Clark to beg the professor for his assistance. It would have cleared things up a bit.

Layton has been waiting for a good few minutes now since he has knocked on the reddish-brown door of the big villa Clark could call his own. Should he have knocked louder? Why didn't they have a bell anyways? Not that he would want to complain, the weather was bright and warm, although the sun was hiding shyly behind dusty clouds, and the only noise besides soft ripple of the canals was a gentle whisper of wind rustling through the leaves of the dense forest surrounding them. The people in this town were friendly(at least the ones he had encountered) and it was a quit the idyll, perfect for a week or two of vacation.  
Still, he didn't like to be urged so exigently, only for him wasting his time standing in front of their house like all dressed up and nowhere to go.

"You're way too stressed, this isn't good for your blood pressure, you know that?"  
Next to him, a fluffy creature of dark brown, almost black colour huffed out this remark in a scolding tone.  
An elegant animal with long, sturdy legs that ended with sharp cloven hooves, with a coat as black as the deepest night and eyes of dijon colour with a horizontal slash in the centre that could freak one out if stared too long into them.  
Or at least, that it what Hershels deamon would describe herself as. He would simply say she is a black welsh mountain sheep, known for their thin pitch black wool and their sharp, slit pupils with a mat yellowish colour.  
"And what's bad for you is bad for me", the sheep reminded again like it would be their first time together. Atropos always tended to depict things much more dramatic than Hershel would, but at the same time would worry less than him. She was one of the biggest puzzles in the professors' life, even though that she was after all his daemon, making her half of his soul.  
Hershel sighed exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose, drawing his eyes shut:" I know, yes. Surely my apprehensions won't facilitate our current situation. Nonetheless, the longer I stand here, I am asking myself why I accepted their request in the first place."  
The sheep shifted herself a bit, looking behind, her hooves clacking on the stone beneath them: "Because you are such an obliging person who would never ignore the cries of help of anyone, especially not of people you know well."  
She murmured while turning back again, her voice took an amused undertone as a faint grin of malicious joy ghosted over her face. "I mean, you have proven that you can easily ignore those cries of help, depending entirely on the person who's asking you, haven't you?"

Hershel wanted to gainsay, but before he could say the first word, the door was pulled open, along with the metallic rattle of the lock that was one of the few guarantees for safety.  
"Ah-", was the first thing that escaped Clarks mouth while the expression on his face went from baffled to disgusted in a second, as soon as he saw his former friend standing in front of their home.  
"Layton. I see you made it here. Without troubles, I presume."  
"Fortunately, the streets to Misthallery are rather well and cleverly made, so the journey didn't require that much time nor fuel."  
The atmosphere between them became tenser and tenser the longer they locked gazes, like two lions flicking their tails and bearing their teeth to warn the other that this is their last chance to run, or else they would tear the other in halves.  
Sometimes, Hershel thought, they actually were that much of primitive animals, not better than anything else.  
"I see", Clark spoke drily as he stepped aside to let them in, his squinting eyes not looking away from the professor.  
As Layton made his way through the door, his heart missed a beat, being staggered by the piercing eyes of the cougar just behind his old friend, slouching gloomily on its strong legs, its forelegs with big paws and sharp claws lightly scratching over the floor.  
Clark had always been proud of his daemon, it being a dangerous and imposing predator after all and never missed a chance to rub it into Hershels face. He also never let the fact unnoticed that Laytons daemon was a sheep. The times he reminded him of that were uncountable. 

A lady with khaki grey hair stood in front of one of the many windows with green curtains, looking rather worrisome.  
She nibbled nervously or her thumb, muttering to herself in inaudible whispers, eyebrows drawn together.  
It was her daemon, a little meerkat sitting on the wooden table with a vase of flowers on them, who noticed Layton first. It tilted its head to the side, now standing tall while sniffing the fresh and new scent Layton brought with him.  
"You wanted to see me?", The professor started and Atropos came to halt just beside him while she curiously inspected the room.  
Brenda turned around in surprise and her loose ponytail over her shoulder swung in motion, her face lighting up in relief as all the unease crumbled from her face like dry and brittle mud.  
"Oh, Hershel, it's so good to see you again!", she exclaimed as she wandered over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his top hat slip a bit as he was dragged down. She was stronger than she looked like.  
They parted again and she was laying her delicate hands on his strong shoulders, patting them. Her eyes seemed to say 'My, what a handsome figure you have', but her mouth stayed shut. She didn't want to risk anything, not with a husband like Clark.  
"You couldn't fathom how grateful I am that you actually came, I was scared you wouldn't take this seriously…"  
She offered him a seat on one of the couches surrounding the coffee table in the centre of the living room, which Layton took thankfully, tipping his hat.  
As he settled down across Brenda, he needed to address the first thing that seemed suspicious about all this:" Say, as much as it seemed like an urgent and threatening problem, I still can not understand why you didn't even remotely describe the issue that has been bothering you. Was is that dangerous that you could only inform me in person?"  
Brenda intertwined her fingers in her lap and shot Clark an unsure look, she seemed like she would be asking for permission one last time.  
Layton wondered how they have gotten into a relationship primarily, she couldn't have done it voluntarily. Arranged marriage, perhaps? On the one side, there was this fragile woman, who appeared to be crushed by Clark's authoritarian behaviour and on the other, there was this beast that dared to call himself 'Caring Mayor and Loving Husband and Father'.  
Brenda's mouth twitched, a weak attempt for a grateful smile as she turned to Layton again:" You know, as the wife of the Mayor of Misthallery, it is partly also my duty to make sure our villagers are all safe and sound. And for some reason I cannot fathom, there are terrifying things happening in this town. Someone, or something, pray tell, is wandering through our home, satisfying its monstrous bloodlust by killing our poor people and their deamons."  
She chewed her lips while her eyes were scanning the room, quickly, from left to right and right to left. Naturally, Brenda's deamon found itself in the same distress and scuttled alerted from Atropos to her side, trying to sneak it's way into her arms as she protectively slung her arms around the little meerkat, sheltering her manifested soul from harm.  
"And I am correct when I say that you want me to investigate, hopefully making out the murderer?" The professor asked as he carefully eyed Clark from the corner of his eye approaching and sitting down next to his wife, stretching out his left arm on the backrest directly behind Brenda. The cougar laid just beside his feet, liking over its teeth and glared at Atropos like she would be its next meal. "It is not for what we want it is for the safety of the residents", Clark declared, his harsh voice shattering the calm conversation like a stone thrown at a mirror.  
"And you're not to decline...", his tongue slid ever so slightly over the tip of his canine tooth," except if you truly are an egocentric bloke who doesn't care shit about other people."  
Brenda frowned, sharing Hershel's discomfort and feared that the situation might escalate.  
"I mean, yo- It's not necessarily- you don't have to, we already called the police on this, they are probably doing their best, but they don't seem to get far."  
She clung tighter onto her deamon which nose sniffed nervously, two pairs of big glossy eyes were begging him to do stay:" But please, Hershel... Please. I know it's a lot to ask of you, but we are getting lesser every day and I'm so scared for everyone, for me, for Clark and… and for my precious boy-".  
Her voice wavered at the last part as tears sprung in her eyes. The mere thought of having to lose her son pained her immensely.  
Layton wanted to raise a hand and stroke her shoulder, scalp, anything, but he could only sit there and watch as Clark placed his arm that was just behind her on her back. He didn't pull her into a hug, didn't caress her, didn't try to soothe her with calming words. It almost looked like he would be doing that just so Layton couldn't.

Layton was no hero, by all means. But he definitely wasn't the beast Clark claimed him to be either.  
Saving everyone was the duty of every gentleman, that much he knew, but what he didn't know was if he had the power to safe everyone. 

…he didn't know, but…

Hershel played the scapegoat his entire life by now. The feeling of being too weak, of being too idiotic, too selfish, disgusting, cowardly, disloyal, gullible, the feeling of being wrong was everything he ever knew. Threatful thoughts had doomed him, making it hard to breathe. 'It wouldn't make a difference if I'd fail now. It wouldn't make a difference if I would disappoint people who once believed in me again. It wouldn't make a difference if someone would die because of me again. It wouldn't make a difference if I'd die.'

He should accept. He should die. He should accept.

"Are you going to help us?"  
A new voice, tiny, sweet, delicate.  
Layton thoughts halted abruptly and the shrill and desperate cries ceased. His sight was drawn up and he could see someone, behind the couch in front of him.  
A young boy with a blue cap, suspenders over a white shirt, brown shorts and shoes and thin white knee socks, but surprisingly with no deamon insight. That must be…  
"Luke. Go up to your room", Clark demanded gloomily as he rose up and stepped towards the boy, but the child didn't move.  
Luke. He had almost forgotten his name. Ten years it was. The boy has grown. Changed.  
He was beautiful. 

Layton stared at the child, and Atropos followed his glance. She saw the kid and looked back to Hershel.  
Her ears shot back and her eyes grew big as she huffed out a weak breath of disbelief and torment when she realised what has happened right now. 'You idiot, stop, for your own sake…'

Forcing his gaze back to the boys' mother, he made a decision. His strength seemed to be restored.  
"Of course. I will do everything within my power to help you."  
Brendas swollen eyes lit up, a wobbly smile graced her gorgeous face again and she carefully laid her deamon on the couch as she almost jumped into the professor arms. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders while she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, babbling 'thank you's and 'I'm so relieved's. Behind her wavy hair, he spotted Clark, holding his son on his hip. Luke seemed to be as excited and relieved as his mother was, even though Layton doubted that he understood the importance of all this, and Clark-  
Clarks furious eyes, as wild as the ones of a big cat, pierced Laytons soul and darkened with every second more. Hershel could hear the sirens in his head going off, signalling that his time was up.  
"Papa, he is going to help us!" Luke gasped happily and a little blackbird fluttered onto his cap, mimicking the boys' laughter with its own chirps.  
His daemon. A blackbird?

Brenda wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she sniffled again:" Oh god, I'm so sorry, did I really use you as my personal handkerchief?"  
She laughed it off, rising from Laytons stiff embrace and dusted off invisible dirt off her.  
When she turned around, her joy faltered and she soon switched back into the role of her old self.  
The housewife that she was.  
"How about we eat something together, time flew by so fast. I am- I think I'm gonna make some tea and sandwiches, yes?" She leaned over a bit into her husbands' direction and held out a hand:" Luke, do you wanna help me out?"  
Clark let him down after hesitating briefly and Luke took his mothers hand, both of them ambling into the kitchen. 

Now they were here. In dreadful silence, since the chatter of mother and kid is gone.  
Laytons old friend warily made his way towards the professor.  
"You know, Clark, you snubbed your cub so many times, soon you just might feel its bite."  
Clark sat down in front of him, right ankle resting on the left knee, his arms stretched out:" You won't tell me how to raise my son, you don't even have kids in the first place."  
A wan and bitter looking smile ghosted over his face:" But maybe that's for the better. Can't leave them with a disgusting man like you."  
'Disgusting', there it was again.  
But he was disgusting, wasn't he, so why feeling hurt?  
The fact alone his former friend called him that didn't hurt, not anymore. The fact he could easily imagine Layton destroying his son in such an perverted and repulsive way felt like a kick in the stomach, lungs, legs, head. Kicking until he shall spit blood. But it is not like he enjoyed the way he is, people tend to forget that. So many times in his life he begged someone, anyone, to end his miserable existence, that felt so draining. Everyone hated him, but what stung the most was that they hated him for the right reason. It was okay to hate him. They all wanted him dead, but don't want to kill him. They want the blood but hate the taste of it.  
Layton grinned effetely, huffed weakly. Clark seemed to be irritated by that and, hot-headed as he was, took this the wrong way. "Funny what I said then?"  
The black sheep to Laytons feet gave him a warning look and shook her head softly. 'Don't do something we might regret later.'

…

'She was right', Layton thought. He would need the situation to calm down, even if it seemed impossible. He took a deep breath, readying himself for a long discussion, but was interrupted by a high voice:" Dinner's ready! We made it with extra love because everything is so scary right now and we need happiness, don't we, Mama?"  
Brenda stroked his peachy cheek, answering something, but for Layton, the outer world was blurred. A cheerful bundle of joy, like the warming rays of the sun, drowning out the cold and depressing winter winds, Luke was. A natural source of warmth, breathing life into Hershels scared soul. He was the personification of completeness and peace for Hershel. His instincts compelled him to keep the boy, to guard him, posses him. Luke would complete him. He would. He would…

Laytons former friend saw what was glistening in Hershels eyes, he saw the rotten desire building up in him.  
He will kill this man one day.  
Even if it's the last thing he'll do.  
He will kill him.  
The world's a merrier place without him.

"I'm sorry it took so long," Brenda smiled, holding a tray with sandwiches and tea in her hands," but now we can eat."

Layton stepped outside again and filled his lungs deeply with the fresh and dark evening air. The coolness calmed his torrid nerves, he immediately could feel how the muscles in his body started to relax and all the anxiety looming over him crumbled more and more from him. A pleasant change from the exertions he had to endure earlier.  
Not much behind him, Atropos followed him with every step, sneaking through the door that was held wide open by a door stopper that has definitely seen better days, her being obviously as relieved as Hershel was, happy to get some timeout from being constantly stalked out of the dark. Now they stood there in silence.  
Behind them, the ambery light that shone through the agape doorway and windows, hopelessly fleeing and losing itself in the night, and in front of them, bushy trees that were gently rocked back and forth by the wind and slim rivers playfully making their way across the land that was painted all in black, swallowing every bit of luminosity. 

Hershel started to fumble in his coat pocket.

"I was hoping you finally would have gotten rid of this nasty behaviour. Since when and why do you smoke regularly again?"  
Layton pulled out a thin white, beige coloured stick from a small cardboard box and guided it to his mouth, the cigarette loosely hanging between his lips:" Since we are being continually preyed at and passive-aggressively threatened by a person I once dared to call my friend."  
The sheep didn't answer and looked away, staring imperviously into the night, knowing it had no use trying to persuade Hershel into not doing what he was doing just right now.  
The professor meandered down the two staircases and lighted up the cig, a tiny, hot, red glow at the tip that was drowned by the heaviness of the night. While Atropos stayed where she was,  
Layton slowed down just next to the mailbox, that has always seemed so misplaced with its unfitting design compared to the rest of the house, and puffed out his first cloud after inhaling thoroughly.  
The nicotine always soothed his temper and thoughts.  
He was aware of the fact that this was a horrible coping mechanism, but it worked.

The night on the countryside was actually rather beautiful to look at when one would take a quiet moment to consider it. Calmness sedating the soul.  
The stars twinkled brightly on the endless vault, but as delightfully as they appeared, it almost seemed like they felt lonely. Being isolated from their friends by the thick darkness that ran between them, not being able to reach them. They were so close yet so far.  
'How foolish', Layton thought. He wasn't going to feel sentimental about balls of gas being light-years away from them.  
Maybe he was just getti-

Sharp pain bore itself into the neck of Layton, his now cigaretteless hand flew to the pulsating skin that emitted waves of burning soreness as he was forced onto his knees. He could hear a helpless bleat of Atropos that was harshly shut down and a loud thump crashing down onto hard stone.  
He couldn't breathe, something was choking him, something was choking Atropos!  
"If it were up to me I would have never even let you near this village", a loathsome voice shouted into the night.  
Layton caught a hasty glimpse to the side and needed to witness how Atropos was held down by Clarks daemon, it used its body weight to press her against the ground and had its teeth wrapped around her neck, the canines digging deeper than any other tooth.  
"You could have just stayed where you were and ignore the letter. But no, you were 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 like this. You always want to play the hero, play the good guy."  
He could hear Clark slowly approaching, his shoes clicking on stone and then crushing little grains of dirt.  
"But Hershel, I am one of the few that know your true face."  
Clark was now kneeling beside him, his vile gaze scanning Laytons back which shivered and had sunken low, only being held up by elbows and knees.  
"This is just a facade that you try to keep upright so people trust you. You're moulding puppets from their minds of clay. And after watching you for years now, I'm surely getting tired of your charade."  
The cougar bit stronger down, ripping little wounds into the flesh beneath the wool.  
Hershel started to pant, his mind was spinning, everything was too much, he needed oxygen, he couldn't breathe, he needed to breathe, the pain was unbearable!  
"If you ever get just remotely in contact with my family ever again…", he lowered himself, tightly gripping the back of Hershels neck with a rough hand and tried to force him to look at him, but Laytons eyes stayed shut," I'm going to fucking skin you two alive!"

He let go of Hershel and simultaneously his daemon let go of Atropos. Both of them trembled with fear, adrenaline shot through their veins and they were both gasping for air.  
Clark rose to his feet again and was ominously looming over the professor, his stoic face showed no emotion:" You are going to tell Brenda you need to decline because you have better things to do, you won't be sorry and you won't tell her about what happened just now."  
Hershel grasped his aching neck, touching the non-existing tears in the skin, or at least, not his skin.  
He didn't dare to look up, kept on staring at the brown soil under him, he wouldn't want Clark to find joy in his eyes that hastily searched for nothing and everything at once.  
As Clark made his way to the door again, the sheep fearfully limped aside, her shaking legs couldn't take her weight.  
The mayor turned around one last time and spoke, his daemon just beside him that licked over its sharp teeth, his voice low and full of spite: "As soon as the sun rises you'll be gone from here, and I swear Layton if I see your pitiful face here tomorrow, you'll wish you were never born.."  
And with that, he was gone.

Hershel and Atropos looked into the eyes of the other, both were equally terrified.  
They didn't need to share words, through the silence both of them understood what the other unwillingly had to think, what the other unwillingly had to feel...

It hurt.


	2. Schaf unter Wölfen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atropos and Hershel need to be there for each other because who else would, and on the other side of the country, different forces face an old character, friend or foe is yet to find out.

"Mhh! Be careful!" Atropos hissed sharply as Hershel was dabbing a wet, now reddish tissue over the bite marks that ripped and ruffled the black wool and skin apart.  
He rolled his tired eyes, ignoring how his deamon tried to avoid the handkerchief by wiggling centimetre by centimetre away, almost falling off the side of the double bed:" You are well aware that we both share the same pain, so quit being so dramatic, it is…" the cloth hit a spot in the wound that felt like a hot needle piercing and pulling at the skin, and both winced simultaneously, freezing in motion:"... not… that severe…".  
After Clark had decided to make his viewpoint clear, Layton and Atropos fled to their guest room, praying that Brenda wouldn't look after them and wish them a good night. He couldn't explain the wounds, he couldn't explain her husbands' mood, but what gave him the worst headache was: He couldn't explain to her that they had to decline her plea. After she'd told him that people were dying, and she was crying in front of him, practically begging him to do something, anything, Layton felt torn apart.  
What should he do…

"What should we do?"  
The sheep asked low, looking from the corners of her eyes at him, head resting on a white, puffy pillow.  
"If we make it clear that we won't help her, she'll break out in tears again and like always, we're the villains."  
Layton tried to dry the wet fleece now, hoping he had gotten rid of all the smeared blood around the injury but didn't bother to look at her.  
The deamon continued, moving her head to the right so she could look out of the window, glancing at the night sky. The stars didn't reflect in her eyes, but the golden light of the lamp on the nightstand, next to the bed, did:" But if we try to be nice and be of assistance, God knows what Triton will do to us… and if we're dead, we won't be of much help anyway."  
While the sheep was mourning over their pitiful dilemma, Layton had gotten up from the bed and walked to the washbasin, threw away the bad replacement of first aid and tried cleaning his hands free from the sticky blood, part of it still clinging onto the underside of his nails, creating dark red rings. The running water created a pleasant, static background noise. Or maybe it was just pleasant because it was anything but silence.  
A thought occurred to him.  
He huffed amused, turning out the tab, the room became quiet again:" Maybe we should just take the offer, hm?"  
Atropos drew her gaze to him, an unspoken question written in her eyes.  
Layton turned around and leaned against the sink while crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly, looking up to the ceiling apathetically:" Just fathom how many problems that would solve. Never having to suffer those isolating nights again, the cold void that haunts us every moment that we are alone, parting us from every mere sanity we have left, sanity that is trickling through our hands like dusty sand..."

Both of them felt worn. Found, used, thrown away and now suffering consequences for which they weren't responsible.  
"It would be… reliving, I suppose." The sheep shrugged uncertain with her shoulders, almost like a human.  
She side-eyed Layton crawling into the bed, laying on the duvet, his hands intertwined on his stomach and the miserable smirk surprisingly being gone completely, without a trace of it ever having been there. But what stayed there were those unforgettable, sorrowful and exhausted eyes staring into the nothing.  
They were a solid part of every mask he wore, a part he could never get rid off, no matter how hard he tried.  
Layton exhaled and one of his hands wandered up to his face, covering his eyes: "Why did this happen to me? Why am I so weak? Maybe I...".  
His jaws, teeth, were grinding against other.  
His left hand, spread over his belly, gripped his waist forcefully and scrunched the orange jumper beneath it, gripping it like it would be the last connection to reality he had.  
Atropos felt the aching pinching of Hershels hand, but what pained her more was this suffocating misery they found themselves in. 

They were drowning.  
Both of them.

And no one was there to safe them.

"Maybe I just enjoy being the monstrosity I am. Maybe I need to hurt everyone around me, to confirm to the universe that I exist. To prove to myself I am someone... Anyone. Because that is the role I must play.", Layton murmured low, his voice not far from a whisper.  
If there would have been a radio playing soft music on the lowest volume in the background, his voice could have easily been overheard.  
"Death would be a welcoming sanctuary. Not for me but for everyone else. … detaching me from this world, like the disgusting parasite that I am…"  
He needed to be gone. He must.

"Hershel…" Atropos croaked with a shaky weak voice, sounding like she would be at the brim of tears.  
Layton forced his eyes up to her, his vision now blurry, be it because of his fatigue or because he was about to break like she was.  
Atropos had straightened up and was now sitting on the bed, forelegs between her hind legs, and her head has sunken low. Her ears had dropped and from her glassy eyes pearled tears, running down the sides of her face and dripping onto the  
bed: "Please… stop. Stop feeling like this… you are hurting u-… you are hurting me…"

Without thinking the professor sat up and leapt forward and pulled her into his embrace, like that could make it all okay again, undo the broken, heal what has been hurt. He had slung his heavy arms around her body and pressed her into himself, their torsos touching, burying his face into her stouty wool like he had done so often in the past.  
"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Imsosorry…"  
he apologised into the warm coat, and the black fleece of her neck caught his tears that had started to dwell.  
She had framed his upper body with her legs and hooves and tried to snuggle her snout into the side of his head, into the crook of his neck. In moments like this, Atropos remembered the 12-year-old boy again whose innocence got forcefully ripped from him, needed to anticipate in a game he was too young to win or even play.  
This boy, now a man, brought her so much pain, unbearable almost. Tormenting pain that frightened her just to think of, but not just because she knew what would follow such actions, but also because she could see him falling for the same thing over and over again, even if he didn't want to, like a blind lamb bumping into a wolf, ready to devour the fragile thing. But still, she needed him so much. Not just because he was half her soul, not because she was his deamon.  
Because his mind once has been the most ravishing, colourful, brilliant thing she has ever seen, ever felt. A lovely, refreshing oasis in this bitter world. And even if those times are thought to be dead, she couldn't believe this.  
One day, they would come back.  
One day, Hershel would come back.

And until they could find their ultimate salvation, she needed to take care of him.  
"Please, let us sleep now… I'm spent", she muttered, snout over his shoulder.  
She could feel her salty tears scalding her eyes, begging her to keep them shut, to finally rest.  
They parted and Hershel apologised again and again while he pulled the silky duvet beneath them to cover both up, letting his burning, throbbing head finally rest on the cool of the cushion.  
Like a big teddy, Hershel hugged the sheep and kept her close to his chest, their bodies creating a lulling warmth beneath the duvet, their breaths becoming one.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

" I think you should be awfully grateful for that I am helping you, you know."  
A young man, not very tall and with an almost childish like voice strutted through the gloomy English decor, pushing past the vintage furniture that was spread across the floor, walking in circles.  
The walls were plastered in shelves, crammed with dusty and dry books, as old as the universe itself one dared to reckon, and the rest of the room was held in a dim glow that was emitted by the crackling fireplace in front of them. "I mean, I just 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠, that maybe, 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲, I should, for instance, get just a teeny tiny bit-", " would you come to the point now?!", the man was interrupted by a barking and harsh voice.  
He swirled around with a delighted grin on his face, pleased to finally getting noticed and stepped to the oaken desk, kneeling in front of the person using it and held his grinning head up with his hands:" I need more attention, or else I'll die. Pretty pleeease."  
The man in front of him, clearly perplexed and annoyed, stopped writing in elegant cursive letters the note he was sitting on for the last hour and laid the pen down. He folded his gloved hands together and gathered his strength. Strength to resist the urge to wipe that ridiculous smirk  
off of his face:" Ascot, I've lost count on how many times we had this discussion, but do I need to remind you that you aren't 10 anymore and can surely act like the grown-up that you are?"  
"But I'm gettin' bored!", he moaned frustrated as he rose and shuffled across the room, taking a good look at everything, anything that couldn't get broken that easily. Or maybe especially things that could get broken easily.  
He wandered over to the armour of a once so brave knight, now only being an old exhibit to ogle, and moved the visor up to look down the empty shell. Dark and shallow. His voice echoed:" I mean I'm trapped in this obsolete mansion, the halls and rooms are freezing cold, there's barely any electricity, and there is no single soul in sight except you!"  
He pulled his head out of the helmet  
and soughed:" Tell me, what exactly am I supposed to doooo…."  
From the other side of the room, there came a low murmur. If he heard right, it was the poor attempt of forming a primitive insult into something eloquent. After successfully snatching the helmet off the armour, he walked towards the other again and took his glasses off, laying in on the table.  
"Just once in a while, you could try not to give in to your childish instincts and pull yourself together. That would be rather challenging for you now, wouldn't it?", the man offered or rather demanded.  
He seemed like he didn't even pay attention and was trying to put the helm on his head, patting it once it slid onto his shoulders.  
"A grown child you are."  
"Well, at least I'm not a rusty, bitter old man who lost every spark of life he had inside him as soon as he turned 12", he asserted in a muffled voice, hovering over the desk, arms framing the other.  
The other man pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes:" Remind me why am I keeping you anyways."  
The red-headed man put the visor up again, which revealed a grin beneath it:" Because the number of people going missing by my hands alone is thrice as big as yours and not only I could be a threat but also am quite the teammate!" The visor went down again and the man puffed up his chest, pressing his hand against it:" And also am extremely charming and handsome that no one could ever resist me, amirite?" As he overconfidently spoke the last words, the sounds of fluttery wings could be heard somewhere. He extended his right arm and a parrot, specifically a Blue and Gold Macaw, landed on it, grey claws gripping the jacket beneath it tightly. The macaw squawked an objection and was told that she also was extremely charming and handsome. "Your parrot better be housebroken", the man on the chair muttered sullenly as he devoted himself to the letter he had been writing on for ages again. The other cocked his hips to the side and stemmed his arm on it, the other still upholding the bird:" Lemme tell you, I really was awfully close to train her to shit on command, just so I could fuck with you from a safe range, so if you ever find something of her, I promise that wasn't an accident. Besides, I'm sure your dog needed more potty training than Até ever did ", he joked and leaned to the side, seeing the addressed canine laying on the ground next to the others feet. It looked up the redhead, ears shooting back and simply bared its teeth, growling from the depths of its throat. Protectively, the man on the desk placed his hand at the back of the wolfs head and massaged it softly as to calm its temper. "Careful, Ascot", he snapped and it seemed like he had almost growled  
as well. " One more word and your bird will be laying torn apart across the floor in several pieces, and you will follow closely."  
Ascot lowered his upper body to be at eye level with him, pushing the visor up once again and smirked solemnly at him:" I dare you, do it. Show me what kinda beast you are. Destroy me." 

The canine just waited for a command, ready to jump and rip apart anything any second, and the macaw was eager to fly, aiming its claws at unprotected, vulnerable eyes.

But nothing happened.

The brunette sighed deeply and decided to put this to an end. The bickerings have never found an end except if he would put them to one. "Go now, we'll meet tomorrow."  
Ascots face graced a triumphant smile, he had won. As always, of course, he of all people would never lose. "Yeah, that's what I thought", he remarked lightly and returned the helmet to its owner back again, his deamon landing on his shoulder.  
He made his way towards the door, as the idea of wanting to add one little thing entered his mind, just to smear a bit of salt into the wound, just do rob him off of his precious sleep:" By the way, you are aware of the fact that Hershel is in Misthallery, right?"

His stoic expression dropped faster than his pen and everything went still.

"What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Don't. Know. Where. I. Am. Going. I. Should. Really. Delete. It. Whole. If. I'm. Being. Honest.


	3. Tränen von Surikaten und Eulen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions have to be made, and nothing goes to plan, because the universe loves to play tricks on Layton.

Birds started to chirp outside, welcoming the morning sun. Thinking about it, the sun that had risen hours ago.

Atropos head emerged from the puffy cloud of a bed, half of her still being tangled in the blanket and she squinted in the bright light. The curtains didn't cover the window, so the reason for her awakening were the sunbeams, warming up the one spot in the room, where two dozing figures laid upon.  
Her brain began to work.  
"Hershel!", she yelped and shoved her snout against the mans cheek, nudging him awake.  
" Hershel wake up, we're late!", she tried again, and as his throat gave a tired noise of protest, she jumped off the bed, walked around it and stopped by the door. Rising on her hind legs and pushing the handle down with her nose, she peeked out on the hallway and hoped no one would need to come and wake them up, like a kid late for school. Along the corridor, there was a grandfather clock, old and massive, clicking in a steady rhythm. The only noise she could hear, besides the birds. But it would soon not be so silent, as the clock hands were just two or three centimetres away from 12. How could they sleep so long?  
Layton straightened up, rubbing his palm across his face and muffled a broken 'What time is it?'. His skull felt feverish and heavy, thunder rumbling inside.  
"Idiot, it's noon! Get up, now!", she pressured him and, judging by the fact he shot her a look just as shocked as hers, his brain had also started to realise what was going on.  
As he hastily pulled on his trouser and one of his many orange jumpers, his daemon looked at him again, pushing the door shut with her  
back end:" What are we supposed to do now, you know, because…" And her gaze dropped to the floor.  
Simultaneously they both breathed: "Clark."

Steaming tea was poured into round cups, cups that were crested with little flowers and birds and insects.  
"Do you think he's not feeling well?", Brenda mumbled softly and set the teapot aside, lowering herself on the couch again. She took a biscuit and broke it in two, one to give to her daemon and the other do dunk into her tea.  
Across her, her husband sat in his usual attire, as if he would only own blue suits, and flicked the big, grey newspaper to the next side:" I frankly do not know what's up with him, but I can imagine the whole thing eventually got through his head and he realised this is too much for one man, especially a man of his kind, to challenge."  
Brenda didn't know if she should speak up. It didn't make sense, she knew Hershel, knew what he could accomplish, so why the pessimism, why was Clark so against him?  
"But he said he will help us, he promised even", the boy, Luke, chimed in, while watching his daemon picking pieces of his sandwich, giggling when it accidentally pulled out a tomato slice which slid on the table. Over the night it turned from a blackbird to a barn owl. Luke had been bewildered to see, it was undoubtedly a year ago since the last time it had changed. So why now. Was it because of the stranger?  
Clark glanced past the paper, looking down at Luke, but only with so much effort that one would think he didn't care:" A promise is just as much worth as the man making it."  
The boys mother curled her right arm around him, rubbing his shoulder lightly.  
Luke seemed disappointed, even though she didn't know why.

"I am terribly sorry, you have my deepest apology", a pressed voice came from up the stairs. Footsteps of shoes and hooves hurried down in a polite tempo, not too rapidly, not too idle.  
Brenda and Luke stopped like twins in drinking their brew and beamed when they finally saw their adored and cherished saviour.  
" Oh thank God you're up and fine, I was afraid the food didn't do your stomach good, I should have asked if you'd have any kind of allergies or some sorts, I'm so sorry", she blubbered and held her hand in front of her mouth, afraid that it could be covered in crumbs.

Layton waved his hands softly up and down as if to calm her, and his gaze wandered from right to left, from Clark to Brenda and finally to Luke… and his daemon, now… an owl?  
He once learned about the symbolism of different kinds of animals in school and what he remembered of the barn owl was, that it was a bad omen.  
Linked to death, ruin and destruction, even to the humorous contrast of their sweet and lovely look.  
No, he shouldn't read too much into it.  
"I am ashamed for having overslept, I must have failed to bring my alarm clock with me", he apologised again, but only half-heartedly, his mind still needed to make up an explanation for why they needed to disappear as soon as possible.  
" I- well, we- I need to", he stuttered, from which not only Brenda but also he was bewildered by, normally he has his words completely under control, so what is it now.  
"Brenda, I need to confess, we have to…", he tried again.  
Clark was grinning behind his paper, lowering it so he could see his prey wringing and sweating in so much distress.  
Atropos cowered her head and stayed silent, a heavy, cold chunk swelling and crawling up her stomach to her throat. She was so sorry…  
"Brenda…" What a pathetic man he was.  
Stupid.  
"Brenda, we canno-"

Two loud knocks on the door.

Brenda, Luke and their daemons perked up, Clarks smile fell and Layton and Atropos hearts dared to give out. They truly were cowards.  
She excused herself and squeezed past her son, who drew in his legs in so they wouldn't stand in the way, and made her way quickly to the door, passing Layton who still stood frozen in time, like a statue.  
An ugly, tragic statue.

A cheerful, feminine yet fierce voice could be heard from the other side of the house, so different from Brendas delicate one.  
Next, Clark and his cougar stood up and halted next to the professor.  
Someone had entered their territory and the big cats certainly didn't like that, did they?  
"Well, yes, right this way, but say, how did you know he was here?", Brenda asked, baffled by the other person, while hastily scooping up her daemon, as a coyote followed her like an energetic dog, lightly bouncing up and down, expecting treats, just that the treats were confused with a meerkat.  
And not much behind them, a young woman appeared, with chocolate coloured, voluminous hair, bright clothing, all in yellow, and a vigorous posture.  
" Ah, so it's really true, you ARE wearing that top hat all the time!", she cackled and grabbed Hershels hand, jerking it with more force than necessary.  
His other hand gripped the brim of the, apparently easy-to-make-fun-of top hat, and helplessly looked down to his sheep.  
But she was as equally dumbfounded as he was.  
She finally let go and stemmed her hands in her sides, propping her weight on one leg:" I'm Emmy Altava, pleasure to meet ya!"  
"Well, I am Her-"," -shel Layton, yeah I know that, in fact. Elsewise I wouldn't be here."  
She hissed a name, Dolos, if they understood right, and the coyote came ushered to her side, tail still wagging.  
Emmy also extended her hand to Clark, but he merely bobbed his head apathetically once, while crossing his arms.  
Resigned, but still smiling, she clasped her hands together:" Well, anyway, I'm glad to have found you, Professor. The town is cute and charming and all, but really, I've never even heard of it, I didn't know if it even existed, but here we are."  
Hershel hesitantly nodded, and the space between his eyebrows got all wrinkled, because as soon as she entered the room, so did a dozen of questions.  
"May I ask the reason for your appearance here, searching for me far and wide?"  
She gasped, mouth in an O-shape which she made an effort to cover with one hand and promptly rummaged in her left pocket: "How dumb of me! You are brilliant, but not a mind reader, after all. Here!", she offered him a folded and slightly crinkled paper.  
As Layton opened it, he could feel the eyes of the people and daemons around him burning holes into him. They were as curious as he was.  
" What does it say?", Atropos mumbled and tried to stretch out her head as high as possible, but still couldn't decipher what stood there. The only thing she could get a glimpse of was that the letters appeared gorgeous, flowy and detailed.  
"I am expected in Dartmoor as to oblige with my geographical and historical insight, for a new kind of ancient relict had been uncovered", he read out loud.  
Hershels hand lowered and his daemon could finally get a proper look at it:" In Dartmoor? I wasn't aware that there was so much to discover there."  
"Yeah well, life's full of surprises, innit? No one knows anything until it happened", Emmy shrugged.

" Wh-what, but Hershel, you can't go!", Brenda interrupted them, panic suddenly flooding her.  
"You promised you'd help us find the killer, oh please, we need you, you're our last hope of being free of this miserable curse!"  
She stepped forward and clutched his arm close to her chest, and as Layton looked away from Emmy, the same image as yesterday played before him.  
That woman really did cry a lot.  
Hershel was torn apart, once again, and didn't know what to do, what he should say, how he should explain himself, what he should think.

"Now, dear, if Hershel is needed to badly someplace else, we can't be so selfish and keep him all to ourselves", Clark sighed and, even if he acted like he would be as disheartened as her, everyone in the room could clearly hear he was not. And maybe even Brenda could hear it too, as she jerked the hand away that was trying to snake its way  
around her waist:" No, but, we need him, we-"  
Her unsteady hands curled tightly around his collar and her face was so close to his that Layton could feel her hot breath melting the stoic iron mask  
he wore:" Hershel, 𝗜 need you… don't go."

Everyone and everything fell silent.  
They were so unimportant on this stupid little planet in this stupid little universe, yet it felt like every decision Hershel had ever made would determine the fate of every being ever to exist.  
Emmy waited patiently for an answer, even though Layton had no second choice, Clark expected him to obey the 'instructions' he had given him yesterday, Brenda sniffled and choked on her suppressed whimpers and even Luke hadn't dared to intervene and make everyone uncomfortable with his naive innocence. 

"I will go, the… discovery seems to be quite important, I can't but need to follow."

A moment of silence, of realisation.

"Ah, great, that will be so amazing, you can tell me on our way there lots of different archaeology thingies, stuff about ancient Egypt, Greece, dinosaurs, I don't know", the other woman cheered, not bothered by the scene displaying itself before her eyes and she pulled Layton by the shoulders in her direction.  
Somehow, her touch felt wrong.  
Her entire existence, that she was here, right now at this moment, felt out of place like she wasn't supposed to be here.

Felt like an error.

Brendas hands flung to her face and sobs echoed from them, caught in their fleshy prison that was now beginning to become wet.  
Her husband pulled her into his arms and spoke solemnly, satisfied almost:" You do already have your suitcase packed, haven't you? Should I carry it downstairs for you?"  
Emmy tried to tell her that the police could take care of that, but Brenda didn't want to listen, couldn't listen.

Layton wondered why people always called him clever, so intelligent, so bright, because he was constantly outsmarted by everyone happening to be in his life.  
He didn't believe there was anyone on this earth being dumber than he was.

And so he gathered his stuff, accompanied by the sound of wailing and yelling and door smashing downstairs.  
"And yet, the universe managed to make us the villains once again…", Atropos huffed as she watched him from the bed, collecting the few things he could call his own.  
He didn't reply.  
" We will surely get through this, surely…", she tried once more.  
Even if she was about to hold a monologue, she continued to speak. Maybe she could drown out the noises from below:" Do you think she can ever forgive us?"  
No answer.  
Atropos jumped off the bed and her ears unintentionally jerked as she could hear another loudly yelled swear word.  
"Do you think the boy took it well?"  
Maybe she was imagining things, but it seemed like he'd have pushed the trunk close with more force than usual:" I, frankly, do not know, but I can imagine he will be spending the rest of the day locked in his room, crying. And I am the monster having brought this upon him."  
He shook his head lightly, brows drawn together, eyes squeezed shut:" And I wanted to make his life easier… yet here I am, making everything worse, like always…"  
The sheep walked up to him and nuzzled gently at his dull hand, which automatically travelled on top of her head.  
It was almost perfectly rehearsed, as this was a moment that had often happened between them.  
Giving each other support in life.  
Atropos breathed out low and gave him a final nudge:" Let's go… maybe we can find some weapons made in the stone age, or crippled daemon and human that was thought to be a monster in the time it had lived."

Stepping outside, Emmy had been leaning on her scooter, funnily in the same colour as her entire outfit, she certainly did like yellow, and was talking to her daemon. Exasperated, that could describe her tone of voice best.  
They could only catch a glimpse of their conversation ere she noticed them:" Yeah, sure, I'm gonna catapult his sorry ass in a river if he dares to give me even one more unpai- oh, Professor! You finally ready?"  
She adjusted the helmet on her head, clicking the chin straps together and heaved one leg over the vehicle. Her daemon jumped on the seat as well and almost sat squeezed like a child between Emmy and the scooter trunk:" I'll drive ahead and you just follow me, we can make stops along the way if you get tired."  
Hershel waved his hand to indicate he's understood and made his way to his car, to store his case in the trunk. Opening it, he needed to shove other things,  
a heavy bag, instruments, stacks of papers, he didn't even know, to the side to make space. He undoubtedly needed to tidy up, most of it he couldn't even recall leaving in there.  
Looking back a last time at the house, he apologized once again, but rather to himself than to anyone that could hear him. Everywhere he went he brought misfortune upon everyone.

His nerves had eventually calmed and the landscape was charming. Trees and Rivers and hills have been passing them for an hour or two by now and the guilt finally settled in his stomach.  
It was always like that: Feeling overpowered and shocked at first, getting used to this sickening blob in his gut until it dissolved and then waiting for the next awful incident to happen. A never-ending cycle.  
His daemon was spread out on the back seats and had her head pressed against the cold glass, following bigger obstacles with her eyes until they moved out of her vision.  
As she almost fell asleep, rocked by the steady rhythm of the vehicle, her ears acted on their own and flicked back, trying to detect a disturbance from somewhere in the back.  
Rumbling, and something high pitched.  
'The car', she figured.

A thump, sudden and dull, heavy almost.

Atropos turned her head around and pushed it against the backrest. 

More raspy sounding movement.

"Hershel, can you please halt the car", she uttered uneasy, loud enough for him to hear, quite enough to keep on listening.  
Layton looked at her through the rearview mirror, not understanding what the sheeps intention was:" Is something the matter?"  
"Just stop the car."  
The automobiles lights blinked and, luckily, Emmy got the sign and drove to the side.  
With the footrest supporting the scooter, she walked towards them, daemon close behind, wiping off a dead insect of her visor:" You two okay? I think it's only an hour or so 'till we're there"  
Atropos wandered to the back of the car and without words and just a concerned look, Hershel knew what she wanted.  
But before he could open it, the coyote rushed to their side and sniffed excitedly, pushing the wet nose against it to inhale deeper.  
"Do you have food in there? Something spilt? Dolos loves milk, maybe you forgot a milk carton in  
there?", Emmy suggested and looked at the professor with questioning eyes.  
He pushed the trunk open, and Atropos, Dolos, Emmy and he all towered over it and peered inside.

Shoes.

Stiff shoes stuck out of a bag that curved itself awkwardly around the other things in the car.

He recognised those shoes…

" Luke?!", Emmy blurted out, her voice high in disbelief.  
At the mention of that name, the shoes twitched and tried to wriggle deeper into the bag.  
Laytons hand smacked audibly against his forehead and he leaned defeated against his laytonmobile.  
He never got a chance to breathe, did he?  
She grabbed the legs and started to pull, making more and more visible:" What the hell are you doin' here? How did you even get in here?"  
It actually was the boy along with his daemon, hiding in the professors car.  
The owl skittered out of it and shook its head, feather all ruffled, and the kid rose and fumbled for his cap that got lost in the bag somewhere, tugging it grouchily down.  
He crossed his arms and kept his mouth shut, pouting, as if this whole situation was their fault.  
Emmys hands gripped her upper arms and she looked down upon at him: "Either you open up that mouth or we'll navigate straight back home!"  
"No matter what he'll do, we will drive home nonetheless", Layton snarled.  
Atropos rarely heard him being so furious. The boy must be extraordinary for being able to make him this mad.  
" NO!", Luke cried in his unusual high, penetrating voice. Picking himself up and standing on both feet he now was one eye level with the adults:" I can't go back there, please don't do that! Mama and Papa will be angry if they get me between their hands! She will cry for days and Papa will eat me alive!"  
"Well, then you should have thought about that 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 you climbed into my car and stole yourself away from home, which makes me look like I would have kidnapped you!", the professor snapped and almost towered over him, wouldn't the kid shove his face provocatively in his'.  
" You don't understand, I can't be there anymore, it's horrible, all they do is scream and cry and drink and slur and miss dinners and spend their time in different rooms at night! And I don't do anything but rub salt into the wound by just existing! I make everything worse!"  
Luke huffed heavily. His pulled together brows sank and the teeth that had been grinding against each other relaxed, mouth closing.  
All the force he had just a moment ago vanished, and it was like it would have taken him all his energy since his eyelids had dropped and his eyes started to water.  
"I just…. Don't make me go back there… please", he pleaded, with the same croaky, broken voice as his mother had begged Layton.

A universes decision.

"Get up and fasten your seatbelt", Emmy made the decision and both Layton and Luke tossed their heads quickly in her direction. They didn't expect that. Layton struggled to keep up with her fast pace and went after her:" Miss Altava, you can't be possibly serious, we cannot take him with us, I doubt that this is legally even poss-", "Didn't you see, the poor boy's been hiding in your car for hours, just to get away from his horrible situation at home, which you made even worse, and yet you don't even have the decency to do anything for him!"  
"I would do everything for him if it would help him but-",  
"Then take him with you!"  
"No, you don't understand, I can't-",  
"It doesn't matter what you can and not, you have to, or are you truly that miserable coward everyone takes you for?!"  
"I can't-",  
"You will!"

Layton was weak.  
So many deficiencies that made him nothing but a marionette, a tool for others, a bridge to cross.  
And he himself made his life harder than it needed to be.

And so, Emmy and her daemon started to drive ahead with his car closely following. Layton felt feverish warm and dizzy, he was afraid he could lose consciousness and drive into a ditch or a tree.  
Atropos sat upright on the passenger seat and felt as equally miserable as her human did.  
And Luke slumped over to the side, laying there on the seat and cradled his daemon in his arms, face nestled in its feathers.  
It was a tough day for everyone and Hershel hoped it would be his last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoh boi, you ever guilt-write? Writing, only because u feel like shit because u haven't uploaded anything so you just  
> *vomit* and say Bon Appetit(idk French) and except ppl not to beat u up?
> 
> Well, yes, see you next year, or not *blows kiss*


	4. Der Fuchs, der sich in seinen eigenen Schwanz biss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Layton and co. do, in fact, not arrive where they thought they would and while Hershel is being blissfully ignorant about what is going to happen, people in the dark are waiting for him, and very well are making plans that will cost him one thing or another.

And the day became darker, and the sky denser. It was plastered in thick clouds, clouds that were heavy and ready to burst and weep. They had been driving for such a long time now, more than just one hour, surely.  
The muscles in Layton's back felt like they would have turned sour and rusty, his rear muscles were sat flat and nonexistent and his arms felt stiff and burned like embers. Dartmoor surely couldn't be that far away, right? Not that the professor would doubt Emmy's abilities, but maybe she had miscalculated their route?  
Atropos head was tilted and her eyes scanned the land they found themselves in:" I do not remember Dartmoor being this devastated. Where are all the plants and streams and boulders?"  
And it was true.  
Barren, dusty earth that stretched until it met the horizon, with pathetic trees that were just a bit darker than the grey around them. That's all they could see. Layton realised too that this wasn't the location they were aiming for, but it would be ungentlemanly to call out a lady's mistakes during their first meeting. However, he had to admit that it felt like they were not supposed to be here. "Miss Altava knows what she is doing, we... We will have to trust her", he muttered, his voice hopeless and having no confidence in their 'saviour'.  
" Hershel, I think we are heading  
somewhere else," she turned to him with a frown on her face," let us turn around, please. We barely know this woman. We just went with her because it seemed like a convenient way to get out of Misthallery."  
And her words were true and that was what worried him the most.  
But at the same time, the belief that she was leading them into a trap seemed so ignorant, almost. They were making up all those hazards in their heads, Emmy did not even hurt them once, so what was their problem? Why did they see a snake in everyone they met, why was mistrust their persistent companion?  
Layton's eyes wandered up to the rearview mirror and saw the still dozing stowaway bundled up to a ball on the backseat, with his daemon snuck under his chin, his one wing spread over Lukes hand that clutched the owl idly in place.  
Another reason why they should turn around.  
"Atropos, we can hardly steal ourselves away like that, not only is this an ungentlemanly thing to do but she would notice and catch up to us. And then, tell me, how would we explain ourselves?", Layton grumbled reproachfully, with venom in his voice, but mumbled an apology right after he realised how harsh he had sounded. "Nevertheless, do you think whatever were about to happen, we should be spared from it? And besides, what is the possibly worst thing that could come to pass?"  
"You do know what happened to us throughout our life, you do know what people are capable of. Please do not test our luck like this, please…"  
And with a pang of heavy guilt in his gut, he forced his head to turn to her, only to be met by those yellow eyes that stared countless times into his self-made misery. Those eyes, those eyes that withstood with all their might to fall into the same pitiful void that Hershel had tumbled into, a void he did not have the sense nor the intention to resist, and a void he was too weak and too deep into to crawl out again.

He wanted to open his mouth and tell her that she should just accept whatever was about to come, but his eyes involuntarily flicked up to a dirty blotch just next to her head, not far in the distance. Darkly looming in this desolation, it was a centre of attention. It's greyish pale colours fitting into the scenery so well, it almost seemed as if that thing alone had turned the nature here into the wasteland it was.  
The sheep that had waited uncomfortably long for another feeble response from him noticed the distracted look on his face that was just staring past her, brows scrunched slightly together in irritation, and swivelled her head around.

An old, abandoned mansion, in the middle of nowhere.  
Grey and aged and bristle it was, with black spots creeping upwards from the bottom, mould perhaps? God, what and why was that thing? Who lived there? Since when did it stand here?  
After gaping at the building in bewilderment for a bit too long, Layton's voice disrupted her daze:" Is… that where we are heading?"  
The realisation hit him like a strike in the face, hard, sudden, burning, and worst of all, he knew this could happen, even accepted it, but now wanted to run like a dog with its tail between its legs.  
Coward.

A mechanic squeak of wheels that scraped over the dry pavement ripped the silence asunder. Their eyes were drawn to the motorcycle in front of them, which Emmy parked, or rather leaned, on one of the rough stone walls of the building. They could see a slim smile that made its way across her face as she looked up the building, helmet in her hands, and snickered when her daemon spoke.  
"Please turn around Hershel", the sheep muttered.  
His hand moved the gear lever.  
"Hershel, turn around", she demanded, her voice rising with fear.  
He turned the steering wheel into the mansion direction.  
"Let us go!", Atropos begged.

And the car came to halt.

He curved his fingers around the door handle and pushed it open, setting one foot after another outside.  
Immediately he was hit with a gust of harsh, arid wind, and his hand shot up to hold his top hat in place. The wind scattered the dry dirt across the ground and Layton was forced to squint his eyes, the air was so unusually dry and he wondered why Emmy took her helmet off before stepping inside, she had a perfect visor on that.  
" Are we there already?", a small voice croaked in the back of the car, followed by a high pitched yawn.  
'Oh God no.'  
The man glimpsed back at Luke over his shoulder and through the headrest, and saw him stretching his drowsiness out. Funnily, it reminded him more of a cat than an owl.  
The boy in blue tilted his head a bit to the side, there was the owl, and gawked at the professor, expecting a reply.  
No, what did he do again. Atropos was right, he should have turned around. Because of him, the boy is far, far away from home and in far greater danger than he could ever fathom.  
After waiting for no response, Lukes head moved away from him and with a stunned 'ah' he pressed his face and hands against the cold window: "Uh, Mister Layton, whe-where exactly are we?"  
Hershel could feel his words getting stuck in his throat, and strangling him, choking the last drops of goodwill he didn't even know he had left out of him.  
"Luke, we are somewhere where you aren't supposed to be", Atropos chimed in, feeling how Layton was too overwhelmed to function right now, " please tell us if you want to go home at any moment, we would be more than willing to drive you back home."  
The young one's eyes widened and the look on his face was an undefinable mixture of scorn and fear that they saw as he snapped his head to them:" No, you cannot make me go home, I ca- I won't go home! Please let me come with you, I promise I won't make troubles!"  
How could they tell him, home would be the safest place for him right now?  
She side-eyed the professor, and, as if she would have expected anything else, he exhaled shortly and didn't even dare to look into anyone's face.  
'Dumb lamb, I told you so…'  
A booming, high voice tore their attention back to reality: "Are you waiting for a written invitation, professor?"  
They've been testing Emmys patience.  
"Let us get going then", he murmured and Atropos could almost see the weight of his guilt pulling him down as he stood up.  
'Let us get going then.'

The place was dim and warm and just a few candles here and there coloured the dark room with pleasant, golden spots.  
Almost like stars that shone softly, the flames of the lights flickered.  
" And you remember what you are going to do?", a gentle, almost boyish voice whispered that came from a corner of the room. A corner where a large, cushy armchair found place on which two figures sat upon, painted black with vague yellow contours.  
Fabric rustled and the person spoken to bobbed their head along with a sweet hum of understanding.  
The boy spoke again:" And you are sure you can do that? Because if you doubt your abilities, I need you to tell me now, yes?"  
"I will try to guide him to you and he won't notice a thing", the feminine voice chirped, but so carefully as if she wouldn't want to anger the walls and furniture that could be eavesdropping and be very disappointed.  
An arm curled itself around the waist of her which elicited a tiny yelp:" Not try. Will."  
Another eager agreement hum.  
Eventually, the one with the deeper voice of them sighed and let his hand rub her lower back in small back-and-forths:" Good, then go to your room and put on something nice, something that makes him unable to tear his eyes away from you. Something that will turn him into a marionette."

And both of them, along with the daemons that lingered in the dark, arose slowly like a couple getting out of bed, but concerns blossomed in her mind at the last part:" Are you really sure you want to do that? Won't you-", "Do you hold me for some kind of primitive nitwit who can't follow his own plans?"  
The interruption came so sudden, tight flares of panic took place in her heart, making it thump quicker.  
"Ah- no, I'm just… I thought you would never want to share me with anyone."  
"Well, drastic times require drastic measures", the other replied and even in the darkness, she could feel the eyes of him wandering up her body, from the hem tip to the collar of her dress.  
A sigh was what marked the end of their conversation and hands that gripped her shoulders gently urged, rather than guided, her towards the door.  
" Don't think about it too much, will you, Flora, dear? That doesn't suit you", he whispered as he leaned down to plant a kiss behind her ear, so soft that at first, she wasn't sure if his lips even brushed her skin. But this simple gesture of affection still made Floras cheeks feel feverish warm, excited butterflies flitter in her belly and her mouth curl into the smile of a princess who found her Prince Charming.

As he turned the knob around and pulled, hearing it rattling and squealing, the bright evening sun split the darkness they emerged from in half and cut a clean gap through it. Floras hand shot up to her eyes, shielding it from the stark contrast of light and she only then noticed how long they've been in that room. The sun was sinking already, that she could see through the enormous, long windows. What time was it? Was dinner about to be served soon?  
A big, fluffy body nudged the girls leg carefully aside and shoved itself between the door frame and her.  
"Oh, Sorry Ia", she gasped abashed and stepped aside to let her panda through. " Your fur looks lovely in the sun, do you know that? Almost like you would be a golden bear", she added quickly in the hope the daemon could pick up the apologetic tone of voice and kneeled down to massage the sides of her pandas round face. 'With a face like that she sure was the most darling daemon around, no one they've ever met could resist those bears dark eyes and smile.' Straightening up again, she kept one of her hands on her daemons head and with mild pressure, she steered her bear to walk with her.

Ultimately, both of the girls made their way down the hallway, chattering excitedly about what clothes and jewellery they could decide on for this special evening, and eventually got quieter in the distance.

The boys satisfied gaze hung after them until they turned and finally vanished behind a corner.  
"But are you certain that they are competent enough to do that?", a question arose from below his knee and he peered down to be met with eyes as sharp and clever as his.  
He could feel a chuckle rising in his throat and smirked solemnly:" I trust her, she wouldn't do something as simple as that wrong", and he looked up into the direction where they had  
disappeared again, "and I almost dare doubt it's possible for her to fail in circumstances like this."  
"And if she does fail would you get rid of her?", his counterpart asked again and from the tone of his question, it seemed rather like a rhetorical amusement for his own mind than a genuine doubt.  
His smile began to falter and the urge to roll his eyes was stronger than he had ever felt it:" We… will not get rid of her, you understand?"  
'Getting rid of her, that seems to be his favourite topic, that stupid, tricky fox.'  
And as sly as his canine was, he seemed to have picked up his fallen grin from earlier to mirror him, or maybe even to  
mock him:" Oh, I do understand. But the question is, do you understand yourself?"  
The boy glowered at him through squinting eyes.  
"Do you think what you are doing right now will work in your favour?"  
That ridiculous, little, complicated creature.  
"Do you, Clive?"

Without thought, he leaned down and his hand shot out to grip one long ear between his fingertips and pinch the sensitive, thin area, that made the animal squeal briefly and the human scrunch in pain:" We need her. And that means, we will 𝘯𝘰𝘵 get rid of her."  
He kept on pressing, the ear between his fingers and his own ear became hotter and hotter, blood collecting in one attacked spot. Dangerously close he was to tug hard and rip a tear into it. He should do it.  
Just pull. Blood should show the stupid beast its place.  
Just pull.  
"So I'm asking once again", he growled quietly into the daemons pointy face that  
stoically kept the smirk, "do you understand that I know what I am doing? Answer, or you will be the first one-eared fox to ever wander these halls."  
His finger started to hurt, felt like they would crack any moment from the pressure.  
'Answer.'  
The blood pulsated and was boiling hot, filling up one spot in focus.  
'Answer.'  
His hand trembled and rose, slowly pulling the protesting fox up to him. His own ear stung, some gristle probably splintered by now, blood would burst out of it.  
"ANSWER ME-"  
"You do know what you are doing!", he cried like a beaten dog and finally his grin broke. His paws frantically searched for support on Clives thighs to not have his entire wight dangling from point of his body and his fangs scraped together in distress.

And finally, Clive let go.

The daemon slipped on his trousers, his jaw crashing against his leg and a final yelp forced its way up to his throat. Naturally, a whimper of pain also came from the others side, as he covered his mouth as if someone would have punched him in the teeth.

They both needed a moment to breathe. To understand. To puzzle things together.

" Good", Clive muttered in a low voice after his breathing came to a normal pace again," I take it that that would be clear now. That… wasn't so hard now, was it, Castor?"  
And the addressed glared at him with bright, fiery eyes that, if Clive wasn't mistaken, glistened with just the slightest hint of damaged hope.  
The human got to his feet again, brushed off phantom dust off his arms and turned away from his daemon, avoiding his stare:" We still have to decide what I will wear for tonight. Such an event isn't something I wanna witness in my regular attire, you know?"  
And as if nothing would have happened, he strode off in his usual step, one foot after another, quickly, yet paced, just like a fox.  
Castors eyes sank to the ground in defeat and the wish for him to be able to persuade that thick-headed fool almost stole him his breath again. Why couldn't he see that his desires are not what he was actually longing for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Surprise! I, unfortunately, am still alive, very much to the regret for me and others.
> 
> 2.Im so so sorry I need about three decades to write shit, and then it's not even good.
> 
> 3.I originally wanted to upload this and another chapter as a twin-package because it's so weak in every aspect, but things change I guess.

**Author's Note:**

> To be fuckn honest, I have no clue whatsoever where this is going. I've never used a single brain cell in my entire life and refuse to do so. I just wanted to write shit and I'm deeply sorry to have wasted your time. If ill continue is a mystery, so don't bother hoping too much?


End file.
